Slit Your Own Throat
by skysedge
Summary: Cassian is living in someone else’s skin and there is a price to pay for being a body snatcher... Jizabel/Cassian, somewhat supernatural oneshot. Spoilers for voumes 5 onwards


**Note from Sorryll:** This was pretty hard for me to write since it's pretty unusual…I won't try to explain as it will give it away. This story takes place after the final time we see Cassian in volume 8 so obviously contains major spoilers.

* * *

So _this_ was how it was going to end.

All the pain, all the unshed tears, all the unspoken words…all had come down to this. A final, private farewell. Cassian rose to his feet and stood before the headstone, expression unreadable. The wind whipped around him and the sun scurried behind the clouds, casting everything around in shades of grey. Fitting, he supposed. Jizabel had lived his life essentially alone and would now spend the rest of eternity here.

As the first drops of ice cold rain began to fall, Cassian clenched his fists and remained staring at the headstone.

It might have been fitting, poetic even, but that didn't make it _right_. Damn the poetry. In his mind, Jizabel deserved so much more than this, so much more than a field in the middle of nowhere and a single mourner. Cassian wondered whether anyone else even knew he was dead. The Cardmaster was most likely dead by now and he had the horrible feeling that it would be the same for Riffael and the young earl. He hoped they had found each other before they breathed their last – to end your life while holding the one you loved….that was poetic for sure but it was the _right_ kind of poetry. Leaving one person alive was cruel, wrong, unfair…

Closing his eyes now, Cassian fought the wave of rage that threatened to consume him. He hated feeling angry. At a time like this, he should be weeping, apologising, _anything_, anything other than clenching his fists and silently screaming _why, why me?_

He opened his eyes again and stared up at the sky. The rain was falling heavily now, plastering his hair against his face in cold strands. The recently disturbed earth at his feet began to run in streams of dirt and puddle around his shoes. Cassian smiled a little.

"Look at that, Jizabel," he said quietly, relishing saying the name that he had never truly been able to utter to its owner. "I might not be your only mourner after all. See?" he pointed at the sky which was lit up with a jagged bolt of lightening. "The angels are weeping for you."

_Why,_ whispered a nasty little voice in Cassian's ear, _has he upset them that much already? _

Cassian spun around, heart beating frantically. "Who's there?" he shouted, feeling a little foolish. He was sure that a voice had spoken close to him but the clearing was empty.

_Oh_, _no one's _there_ you foolish boy,_ the voice said again, sliding into Cassian's consciousness.

"What?" Cassian span around again, finding himself alone still. The voice sounded so close…so close…who was speaking to him?

_I suppose you don't recognise me, do you?_ The voice uttered a cruel laugh, reminiscent of dark rooms and candlelight. _Well, I guess that's for the best. Jizabel would recognise me. But can he hear _you_ do you think?_

Cassian dropped to his knees, shaking. He had finally been able to ascertain the position of the voice. It wasn't in the clearing. Nor was it coming from the grave, the final words had made that quite clear. Cassian was now sure that it was coming from somewhere within himself and that if someone else had been present, they would not have heard a thing.

_Ah, there's a clever boy. _

He gave an incomprehensible cry of something between rage and fear, before slamming his eyes shut. What was happening to him? Had he lost his mind? He wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case, after all he had been through. His childhood, his recruitment into Delilah, the unspeakable acts he had committed in their name, his transference into Cassandra's body and, finally, holding the one he loved in his arms during their final moments, watching the colour slowly drain from Jizabel's skin as his blood had ran in all directions…

The rage that he had been holding ever since that moment finally spilled out. Cassian allowed himself to eel angry. After all he had done, after all he had been through, he hadn't been able to save Jizabel after all. He had broken his promise. _And Jizabel had let him_. Jizabel had been the one to drag that blade across his throat, had been the one to destroy Cassian's one reason for living….

_Slit your own throat_.

Cassian's eyes slammed open and his fists slowly unclenched. The voice was back.

_Slit your own throat._

He began to tremble all over, from fear not from the cold. Although the rain soaking through his clothes served to make the shuddering worse. The anger was receding now.

_Slit your own throat._

Fear suddenly swallowed him whole. He knew that voice now. Knew it as well as he knew his own….because it _was_ his own.

_Slit your own throat._

"Cassandra," Cassian whispered, voice barely audible over the now thundering rain.

_Good boy,_ Cassandra said. _I truly didn't think you would work I out. Did you really think I had gone away?_

"Get away from me," Cassian murmured.

_Sorry, I can't do that._

"_Get the hell out of my head,_" Cassian hissed, voice cracking with the difficulty of speaking when that voice was slithering around his brain. It was as though with the knowledge of whom the voice belonged to came this awful sense of Cassandra as a person. Cassian felt crushed, twisted, as though he was in a body too small. He could feel Cassandra surrounding him. "Not now. I can't fight with you here. Please."

It's precisely because you're here that you're finally able to hear me. Sorry, but I've got to take this moment to push you down.

"Why?" Cassian moaned.

_Why?_ Cassandra gave a terrible, laugh that seemed to start at the bottom of Cassian's spine and scrape it's way up towards his head. _Revenge. You killed me, Cassian. You stole my skin. Body snatcher._

"It wasn't my choice," Cassian gasped out and pitched forwards into the mud, rolling onto his side. His previous rage paled into nothing when compared to the rush of Cassandra's rage that now crashed over him.

That makes no difference whatsoever.

His weight crushed down on Cassian until he felt as though he was sinking into the ground, sinking into the mud of Jizabel's grave. His bones felt as though they were ready to crack. His flesh felt bruised. He screwed his eyes shut as dots began to swarm across his vision. For a moment, he wondered whether sinking down to join Jizabel would be that bad after all. Anything would be better than this pain. He felt guilty. Cassandra was _right_. He was living in someone else's skin and there was a price to pay for being a body snatcher.

The pain was unbearable. Cassian struggled for breath. "What do you want me to do?" he gasped out.

First of all, answer me one question.

Cassian nodded, smearing mud across his cheek.

Why did our dearest doctor leave this world?

Cassian laughed, despite the pain, feeling rage washing back into him. "Because he died you idiot."

The weight intensified tenfold and Cassian cried out, his mind reeling. He danced on the edge of unconsciousness as Cassandra spoke again.

Let's try rephrasing that, shall we? Why did Jizabel die? What did he do?

"He…he…" Cassian fought to get his mind in order. "He…slit his own throat…to…to save…"

The reason of no importance whatsoever. So, what was it he did again?

"Slit his own throat…"

You know you asked what I wanted from you?

Cassian nodded, realisation finally dawning.

Now you have your answer, don't you?

Unbidden, Cassian's hand moved and started groping in his pockets for one of his knives. Cassandra's laughter filled his mind and for a moment, Cassian felt truly insane. The rain beat down upon him, soaking him in icy cold water than ran in rivulets over his mud covered body. His hand jerked awkwardly, searching blindly for a knife. His head moved backwards of it's own accord exposing his neck to the world and mud streamed into his eyes as he opened them in fear. And the laughter went on and on.

Cassian screamed, a noise that started low in his throat and rose gradually until it was a piercing wail. The world was made of noise, noise and cold and fear. Cassian's eyes rolled up into his head and the world went black

"I'm not going to take this, Cassandra."

Another voice slipped into Cassian's mind and he was dragged back from the darkness behind his own eyes. Unlike Cassandra's voice, which slipped into the mind like a knife into flesh, this voice wrapped itself softly around his senses, assuring him that there was no danger.

Cassian opened his eyes and his breath hitched in his throat.

The clearing had disappeared. The grave had vanished. He was still cold, still soaking and still covered in mud but the world that these things belonged to no longer existed. Although h could still feel the ground below him, for all appearances he was floating. The world was black, darker than the midnight sky and stretched out away in all directions. The only light was pale, ethereal and was coming from the two figures standing before him.

Cassandra was standing a few feet away, looking as he had always looked. His face was contorted into a wolf like snarl and he was crouching slightly, as if preparing to attack. His whole body was emitting a pale glow that stretched some few inches from his body. This light faded into a deep crimson before being swallowed up by the endless night.

"You're going to have to take it, insolent fool," he said sharply, voice ringing out over the distance now, rather than being inside Cassian's own head. "It's my right. Who are you to stop me?"

"I helped cause all of this, it is only fair that I finish it."

"What part of this insane dance has ever been fair? Tell me that, Jizabel!"

Cassian finally dragged himself onto his feet and found himself unable to breathe. Jizabel was standing before him, acting as a barrier between Cassian and Cassandra. He looked…peaceful. As he should have always looked while alive. His hair was hanging loose, curling around his body which was robed all in white. His eyes remained staring forward, staring at Cassandra but a slight movement of the head assured Cassian that Jizabel knew he was awake. Or at least…aware. Cassian had no idea of whether he was asleep and dreaming, awake and hallucinating or…something else entirely.

"None of this has ever been fair, Cassandra," Jizabel said softly. "But this is beyond anything I had ever expected of you. You have been trailing Cassian since the moment he took his first breath with your lungs, waiting for a chance like this, haven't you?"

"Of course," Cassandra grinned humourlessly. "That boy is too resilient for his own good. However, watching his precious doctor die gave me a way in. Grief opens the human soul to all sorts of evils, you know. It was easy to sneak in and harness his grief, his anger at being left behind. So yes Jizabel, you were right after all. This has all been your fault."

Jizabel inclined his head slightly and then strode forward. "True. But no longer."

What happened next happened so fast that Cassian was never really sure what had happened at all. Jizabel had moved towards Cassandra and the figures had moulded into one, becoming a blur of light and shadow that screamed as it moved. Then the light separated and again became two figures – Jizabel was standing before Cassandra who was kneeling on the floor, hands clutching at a throat that was sliced from side to side. Instead of blood, light flooded from the wound to pool in the darkness before him.

"Goodbye, Cassandra," Jizabel said quietly and then finally turned to Cassian. "Cassian."

"Huh?" he said, startled. He pointed towards Cassandra who was rapidly dissolving into nothing more than a blur of light. "What…how…what the hell is going on?"

Jizabel smiled and raised a hand to Cassian's cheek. His hand shine with a cold light but was hot to the touch.

"It's over now," he whispered. "Cassandra will never hurt you again. I'm sorry, Cassian. Sorry for leaving you. I understand if you feel angry. Thank you for saving me."

"But I didn't," Cassian said quickly. "I wasn't fast enough to-"

"_You saved me_," Jizabel said emphatically. "Not my life, but everything that I am. And I will _always_ be grateful for that. I'll be waiting for you, Cassian. Live the rest of your life for me. I don't want for you to see me again for a long time."

"But-"

"I would kiss you," Jizabel murmured, effectively silencing Cassian. "I always meant to, before."

Cassian blushed and opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again when he realised that the darkness was becoming lighter and that with it, Jizabel was fading.

"What's happening?"

"You're waking up," Jizabel smiled. "I suppose this is farewell."

"I love you!" Cassian blurted out, before he could stop himself. "I always did! Why can't…why can't I…."

"Silence," Jizabel commanded and stepped away from him, fading even more. "I loved you too. I just wasn't able to realise it until it was too late."

Cassian found himself speechless and so settled for nodding silently, tears coursing down his cheeks. The clearing swam back into his sight and Jizabel was superimposed over the trees like a reflection seen in glass. As he stared, Jizabel smiled one last time and turned away. He raised a hand in greeting to someone that Cassian couldn't see.

"Yes I did it," he heard Jizabel say faintly. There was a pause and then, "I know it took me longer than you. If I had known that you were this _impossible_ when I was alive…I have no idea why father loved you so…"

The voice trailed off and the clearing became solid at last. Cassian lay still for a few moments, smiling and crying all at once. After a few minutes, he picked himself up out of the mud and leaned against the headstone, forehead resting against the cold stone.

He no longer felt angry. Jizabel had gone. But no matter how cold the stone was, his hands had been warm….and there was hope for the future.

Rising to his feet, Cassian nodded in the direction he had seen Jizabel last and then turned, limping slowly out of the clearing as if in a dream. And by the headstone, three figures stood watching him leave. One was slender and dark haired, and smiling in a way that suggested arrogance but concealed true happiness. The second was taller, silver haired and this figure just stood, face unreadable. The third figure was trembling slightly, hands at his sides and long hair blowing in a icy wind. His eyes swam with silver tears.

"Till we meet again, Cassian," he said softly, "Till we meet again."

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**Afternote: **So, what did you think hm? I decided to write this a while back and only just found the words to do so. Please let me know how you all found it….for some reason I'm rather attached to this weird ficlet. Let me know if it's awful!

OH and a big disclaimer type thing:

This fic based on the song **Slit Your Own Throat **by The Used - from their Shallow Believer EP. Please give it a listen. The lyrics that inspired this were slipped into the story and are as follows:

_I gotta take this moment  
Just to push you down  
Spin you around with my foot on the back of you neck  
Up on the curb with the pressure on your teeth  
Not gonna take this  
Not gonna take this_

I watched the rain make a puddle to get you soaked  
The swollen words they crack coming out of your throat  
Sticky times for the shallow believer  
Not gonna take this  
Not gonna take this


End file.
